


What We Deserve

by Ultimatum



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Eating Disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultimatum/pseuds/Ultimatum
Summary: Ignis holds Prompto in his arms. Prompto lets himself be held. Beyond what they’ve found in each other, they’ve found something in themselves as well.For Ignis, a worth outside of duty. The allowance of a life outside of Noct. Something for him just because he wants it, not because someone thrust it upon him.For Prompto, unconditionality. Honesty. Warmth. A keen eye to see through his layers and masks. The ability to feel all the things he’s sworn off in himself. The assurance that he deserves love, not because he’s earned it by suffering enough, but because he’s always deserved it.[For the Promnis Bigbang 2019]
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 20
Kudos: 131
Collections: 2019 Promnis Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this one was a long time in the works.
> 
> huge shoutout to the promnis bigbang theme (the mods! you guys were absolutely great) and my artist for this fic: pannonation on twitter! they rock

Ignis has a problem.

That problem is blond, about 5’8”, and has an unfairly _perfect_ ass. As someone with taste where it counts, Ignis is sure that this is an indisputable fact. 

However, as tasteful as this man’s ass may be, Ignis knows he needs to keep his distance. Duty and responsibility are honorable. Staring at an employee’s _posterior_, on the other hand, is perhaps not the wisest use of his time. 

It simply isn’t productive to dream of sexy strangers, after all.

Besides, Ignis has enough on his plate as is. Noctis is not the easiest to wrangle on the best of days. He needs to feed him, watch him, appease him, plan for him, chart course for his future—don’t get the wrong idea. There is nothing Ignis would rather be doing with his time.

It’s just how his life is, after all. Watching over the Prince takes priority above all else, and besides, important people like Ignis have no room in their lives for—

“Oh for the love of…”

As his shopping cart crashes into a rack, Ignis is jolted out of his fantasizing by a shatter. See, this is what he’s talking about. Distractions are not becoming of a man of his stature. He thinks about a man’s ass for a few seconds and suddenly: anarchy!

Drat. He’s caused a mess, and a completely avoidable one at that. 

Gladio and Noctis, who were previously wandering around and no doubt planning mischief, come back the moment they hear the noise. 

“Ooooh, Ignis had an accident,” Noctis says the moment he sees the broken pickle jars in the aisle. 

“Come now, let’s call someone over to clean it up.” Ignis takes a deep breath and sighs when he notices that some of the items in his cart are soaked with juice. He supposes he’s just going to have to deal with sticky groceries this week, as unfortunate as it may be. He feels far more guilty about the fact that he just recklessly broke glass. And that someone else will no doubt have to clean it up.

“Good job,” Gladio comments, elbowing Ignis in the side good-naturedly. 

For a moment, Ignis thinks he’ll be able to shrug it off. It’s fine, these things happen, even if they’re completely inconveniencing. But the moment a blond head pops into the isle, bounding over in a familiar dark green-and-tan uniform, Ignis feels his exasperation grow.

Exasperation with himself, that is. Because of course the handsome man he’s been eyeing for weeks would be the one to see him like this, making a stupid mistake, shoes sticky, covered in pickle juice. 

Beyond simply being too busy for a relationship, there’s no way this man would find him anything other than—than abhorrent at worst, inconveniencing at best! Ignis stifles a groan as his Problem, a certain Prompto Argentum, comes up to them. 

“Is everyone alright? No one stepped on any glass or anything?” Prompto hovers his hands out, a bundle of nervous energy and worry. It’s pretty cute, how he hops from one foot to the other like a little bird. Ignis’s mouth suddenly feels too dry to form coherent words.

But he should, shouldn’t he? Noctis and Gladio are both looking at him expectantly, as they tend to do. It’s a cue for him to take charge. 

“We’re quite alright, thank you ah…” Ignis glances at Prompto’ nametag as if he doesn’t already know it. “Mr. Argentum. I apologize for the damage; I’ll cover the cost. It was my bad, I’m afraid my glasses… Fogged.”

Gladio snorts a laugh and covers it, very conspicuously, by coughing into his hand. _Oh, bugger off._

Prompto takes the lousy excuse easily, smiling way too hard for someone who has to clean up a bunch of glass because of a stupid, stupid mistake. “Just Prompto is fine! But don’t worry about it, you didn’t break too many of ‘em, and things like this happen. Usually my manager just lets these things go anyway.”2

“I insist, compensating would be no trouble.”

“No, no worries! Just be careful stepping away from the aisle, I’m going to clean it up for you in a minute. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Ignis feels like a total idiot, wasting this man’s time over his own ineptitude. He assures Prompto that he’s completely fine, thank you very much, and apologizes once more before backing his cart away from the glass.

The moment they’re out of Prompto’s earshot, Noctis cajoles him. Ah. Of course. He should have seen this coming. 

“You liiiike him.”

“Of course, I do,” Ignis responds, trying to keep an air of dignity to himself. “He’s a competent employee.” 

Noctis pretends he can’t hear Ignis’s excuses and starts to stage-whisper to Gladio, who’s just as smug about it all. “So _that’s_ why Ignis kept making us drive 20 minutes to get groceries. He wanted to see—” 

“Noct, you know perfectly well that it was for the savings. Mum-and-Pop shops are simply unrivaled in quality, and their coupons—”

Gladio pitches his voice up into his best mockery of Ignis’s accent. “_Their coupons._ Come on, man, it’s obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious,” Noctis chimes in. “You were giving him _total_ goo goo ga ga eyes. Like, it was sickening.” 

“Yeah, sickening.” Gladio laughs, leaning forward to pinch Ignis’s cheek. His hand is slapped away promptly. “Aw, come on Iggy, this is exciting. Our stuffy advisor is growing up, baby’s first crush.”

“Oh, you two are the absolute worst.”

Ignis does the only thing he can do when dealing with literal children: he ignores them. 

Anything he says in his defense will probably be used against him, and he’s more than aware that his face is getting warm, which isn’t doing his case any favors. 

This is not his _first crush_ or anything ridiculously juvenile like that. This is not… Whatever Noctis and Gladio insist it is. It’s only what Ignis wants it to be, or knows it needs to be. And he needs it to be nothing, so it _is_ nothing. Well, that was easy. 

Thank goodness. 

Hardening his resolve, Ignis loads the grocery bags into his trunk, dismayed despite himself when his thinks about how sticky everything will be when he gets back to Noct’s apartment. 

Just his luck. And after he makes dinner, he has a whole batch of paperwork to read through.

This is why he doesn’t have the time to date. Everything else comes second to the Prince, even his own health. That’s simply how things are meant to be. 

There’s no use getting his hopes up, he’s perfectly content where he is. Noctis may tease him and joke that he needs to get a life, but Ignis already has one. 

And it’s solely dedicated to Noctis. It isn’t sad, or pathetic, or whatever else people may think of it. It’s a life, and it’s his. He cherishes it more than anything.

Ignis glances in the rearview mirror at Gladio and Noctis, who insist on roughhousing with each other, even in a moving vehicle. 

But Noctis is smiling, so uncaring now that no one in the public eye can see him, and Ignis doesn’t have the heart to tell them to quit it. 

Yet. 

If he has any suspicions that they’re scuffing up the leather seating, it’s over for them, point-blank. 

Yes. Ignis is aware that other people would consider his life to be… Constrictive. But when he looks back at Noctis, he sees his world, his responsibility, his duty, and he cannot imagine life being any other way for him. 

Cute, blond employees are fun to think about in passing. There’s no harm in a little fantasy. But beyond that, Ignis is content with dropping any serious infatuation he may hold towards him.

He has something more important he has to focus on. And that’s simply the way things must be. 

X

Too bad Noctis is incapable of doing the same.

During their next grocery run later in the week, Noctis doesn’t even try to hide his mischievousness. Ignis, quite frankly, fears for Prompto’s life. Because if the glint in Noct’s eyes is anything to go by, he has something planned. Gladio, though not as obvious, seems to be up to something too. 

A couple of schemers, they are.

Blast it all. Is it possible to get grey hair at age 22? Is Ignis’s hairline receding or is it just mature? 

Maybe if he ignores them, they’ll get tired of this game and leave him be. It’s unlikely, but Ignis can hope against hope for even a moment of _peace_.

The first sign of Noctis and Gladio’s “scheme” shows itself when Ignis is putting Chocobeans into the cart. 

“What’re you _doing_?” Noctis says, sounding far more affronted than he has any right to be. 

“You know well enough that I was planning on making bean bowls tonight, Noct.”

“No, no, no!” Noctis pries the can from Ignis’s hand. “You can’t just buy beans, what if that guy sees?”

“Excuse me?”

“What if that _guy_ sees you buying beans, Ignis?”

Ignis blinks, at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry, I still don’t follow.”

Noctis leans in closer to whisper directly into his face. “If that guy sees you buying beans, he’s gonna think you have plans to go home and take a dump or something. Are you kidding me?”

“I…”

“We’re only buying sexy groceries from now on. No beans. We can’t have this dude thinking you shit.” 

“Sexy… Groceries.”

Noctis nods and shoves the Chocobeans back onto the shelf, the sneaky bastard. “Yeah, you know, like—” 

“Melons.” Gladio supplies, face completely stoic. 

“Yeah… Or like, cake,” Noctis adds, equally serious. 

Ignis takes a moment to collect himself. Deep breaths. Don’t let them get to you, he reminds himself. He doesn’t dignify them with a response. Instead, he simply reaches back to the shelf and grabs the beans, putting them into his cart before Noctis can think of another way to sneak them back out. 

“Nooo, Iggy—” 

“—That is so unsexy of you, dude.”

Ignis feels his face burn when he spots a blond head pass between the isles. There’s no way he didn’t hear Noctis and Gladio whining at him, calling him… Well, unsexy. 

As lame as that is, it embarrasses him all the same being in public and behaving like this. Like a teenager. 

Or worse, a child.

Ignis hastens to grab what he needs as quickly as possible to avoid any further… Antics and goes to check out, eager to leave and put this embarrassment far, far behind him. As far as it will possibly go. 

However, Noctis and Gladio seem to be on a _mission_, as it were, and continue making strange, irritating comments as they wait in line. 

“Ignis, I can’t believe you put toilet paper in there, too,” Noctis whispers, far too dramatically for the situation at hand. “The beans were bad enough, now he’s _really_ gonna think you’re going home to shit.”

Ignis ignores him and straightens his mouth out into a long, thin line. Hopefully, Noctis takes the hint that he’s becoming annoyed and leaves him alone.

He doesn’t. And neither does Gladio. 

“What’ll blondie think of your bowel movements, man? I can’t believe—”

“Sod off, you two. I have no care for what he thinks of my _bowel movements_. Not everyone is as vulgar as…” Ignis trails off as he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

No. This can’t be happening.

Ignis turns on his heels as respectably as he can manage and, oh, of course, it’s Prompto. He doesn’t seem to be disgusted, at least; he’s still got that huge, polite smile on his face, after all. Ignis stares for a little too long at his lips before he even attempts to make sense of what is being said.

Fuck, he’s completely missed it. He couldn’t even register words, and now he’s being looked at all expectantly. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Prompto shifts a bit on his feet and shoves something forward. Oh. Ignis looks down at it (to avoid being distracted again by… well, Prompto’s lips) and pushes down his shame at being so uncouth. 

“Um, we’re giving out some free samples.”

Of course. Ignis grabs a piece of fruit from the bin Prompto’s holding and hands it over to Gladio. He’s sure he can use it tonight for dinner, even. He thanks Prompto and watches him approach the next set of customers.

“Aw, come on Igs. Don’t look so sad.” 

Ignis starts putting the groceries on the conveyor belt and pointedly ignores Gladio. 

He isn’t sad. It would be downright ridiculous to be sad about any of this. Besides, Ignis has much bigger things to worry about than the unsalvageable remains of his romantic fancies. 

Prompto is just a cute man he gets to see every once in a while. That should be enough.

No matter how many times he’s told, and teased, otherwise.

X

At a certain point, however, Ignis realizes that he’s irrevocably, thoroughly fucked, and there’s nothing he can do to deny that fact. Denying it would be nothing more than an act of cruelty and perhaps, even make it harder for him to move past it.

That doesn’t mean Ignis has to be happy about it, though. And he isn’t. Or, at least, he refuses to admit that this silly crush is more than a waste of his time, emotions, and _dignity_.

Because Noctis and Gladio are still making things difficult for him, as they always do. 

In fact, Ignis has made it a habit to check the cart for unwanted items nowadays. Though he is remiss to admit it, he’s been quite… Distracted lately. 

One moment, he’s weighing two vegetables in his hands, determining which one is superior, and the next, he’s staring off into space.

Or more accurately, staring directly out in the direction of Prompto’s butt. 

By the time he comes to his senses, the cart has things in it that he’s absolutely certain he didn’t put there. Candy. Magazines. Cup of Noodles. 

Ignis snatches them out and curses his hormones for doing this to him. He’s an adult, not some desperate adolescent. He should be better than this by now. 

Gladio and Noctis are nowhere to be found. They’re probably off somewhere, gallivanting and searching for more _contraband_ they can slip in while Ignis is lost in his own admiration. For the past few weeks, they’ve been disappearing. Probably conspiring. This has to end. Now.

Maybe he’s just sex-deprived. 

Ignis sighs to himself.

Maybe hooking up with someone will clear his head; it’s not his favorite thing to do, and he hasn’t in a long while, but it may get him to calm down, at least enough for him to focus on what really matters. I.e. his job. Not his silly emotions for a man he doesn’t even know.

Yes, Ignis thinks, this will absolutely solve everything. Or at least it will if he tries hard enough.

Once again, Ignis tries to ignore how indisputably fucked he. If he can’t deny it anymore, the least he can do is try to fix it. To drive home just how dedicated to the cause he is, Ignis doesn’t look at Prompto at all the next time he sees him pass through the store. 

Ignis mentally gives himself a hearty pat on the back. He is the pinnacle of self-control. The absolute _paradigm_ of it. 

Now, all he has to do is continue avoiding Prompto for the rest of his life. 

Easy. 

Nothing could possibly go wrong now that he’s decided this. Nothing at all. He’s set. Problem solved. 

X

Except Ignis is thwarted. Pretty swiftly at that, too. 

The next day, he opens the door to Noctis’s apartment and stops right in the hallway, unable to bring himself to step forward once he sees who _else_ is here. 

Oh god. Is it getting hot in here? 

Ignis gulps and straightens his tie in a futile attempt to distract himself and make himself semi-decent. Fuck. His heart is hammering, this won’t do. No, it won’t do at all.

Prompto is sitting with Noctis and Gladio on the couch. _Talking_. Like they’ve known each other for a million years. This is breaking so many rules that Ignis may just keel over from the stress of it all. Did Gladio bother to background check him, even?

Oh, Gods, this could be a disaster, this could be a huge disaster.

“Igs, stop freaking out over there. Yes, I background checked him. It’s fine, will you chill out and come in already? You look like a fucking ghost.”

Ah. Ignis steps forward as all eyes turn to him. Gladio has his eyebrow raised as if he can read his mind. After knowing him for so long, he might as well be able to. This is so awkward, why is this so awkward, what are they scheming here?

“This is Prompto, from the market, you know?” Noctis looks like the perfect image of innocence, but the gleam in his eyes tells Ignis all he needs to know. “Prompto, this is Ignis, he’s kinda a huge square but he’s pretty cool when you get to know him, I guess. Oh, also his food is incredible. Kinda makes up for how much of a dweeb he is otherwise.”

Prompto shoots up to his feet and is shaking hands with Ignis before he can even register that they’re touching. 

Oh, gods, they’re touching. 

“It’s nice to meet you! So, you’re the cool royal adviser dude? I know I’ve seen you guys a lot in passing but I didn’t even recognize that you were _royalty_! Man, that’s so fucking sweet!”

“It’s nothing special, really,” Ignis says, averting his gaze so he doesn’t suddenly combust. Prompto’s expression is a bit too earnest, and Ignis fears how obvious he’s being. Regardless, Ignis wants to make a good impression. He can’t go on forgetting his manners, after all. “But it’s a pleasure, Prompto. Are you staying for dinner tonight? I was about to fry some fish.”

Prompto rocks back on his heels, suddenly drawing into himself, if only slightly. “Ahh, no thanks! I was about to go, actually…” He trails off sheepishly, looking away to the side.

Perhaps he doesn’t want to impose, Ignis thinks, and he can respect that. Too flustered (and surprised) to fight about it, Ignis finds himself clearing his throat and heading to the kitchen, where he knows he can safely seclude himself and keep away from any semblance of socializing. “Well, maybe next time, then?”

“Um, yeah,” Prompto says. He’s putting on his shoes before Noctis can get a word in edge-wise, which he obviously seems to be trying to do as he follows Prompto to the door like a lost puppy. “See ya guys later! It was nice to meet you Ignis! Gottagobye—” 

And the door shuts.

Gladio snorts from where he’s still sitting on the couch. “Nice one, Iggy.”

“What did _I_ do? If anything, I should be asking you what you two were thinking, pulling that stunt. You know very well that I—”

“Have a big, huge, obvious crush? Yeah, we know.” 

“—Oh Gladio, shut up for a moment, will you? You know very well that I’m too busy to date at the moment.”

Noctis leans over the kitchen divider and makes himself comfortable in his island chair. When he leans over on his folded arms, he at least has the tact to look slightly remorseful for his actions. “Well maybe you shouldn’t be. Shouldn’t you have a life or something?”

Ignis bites back the comment he can feel building up in him. A scathing _YOU ARE MY LIFE, YOU IDIOT_ that he figures is better left unsaid. 

He takes a deep breath. It really is unbecoming of him to let these two get under his skin like this. 

After re-centering himself, Ignis opens the fridge and grabs what he needs to make dinner. Perhaps a distraction is in order. At least now, he can vent out his frustration. With a knife. Fileting an unsuspecting, dead fish, that is. 

Yes, that sounds wonderful right about now.

Should he have a life outside of Noct? He isn’t sure. He tells Noctis such. “Maybe down the road, when you’re more comfortable in your position. Until then, I’m afraid not, Your Highness. I’d much rather focus on my duty than lose myself in some—in some silly, trivial _romance_, of all things.”

“You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re afraid of what’ll happen if you let yourself have something for once,” Gladio points out conversationally, as if he’s just telling the time and not pointing out Ignis’s frankly abundant attachment issues. “Listen, I of all people know how important duty is. But you _can_ have more than this, you know. It’s not going to all come crashing down if you date one guy. That’s just fucking dumb.”

Ignis’s voice comes out tighter than he’d like it to be when he gathers enough courage to speak. “How’d you even get him here, anyway? Seems a tad manipulative to work the poor boy like that.”

“We’re friends now,” Noctis says into his arms, making his voice muffled. “Where’d you think me ‘n Gladio were disappearing off to for the last few weeks? Plus, he’s cool, so it’s not like we’re manipulating him or anything. Jeez, you make it sound like we have these like, sinister intentions, Ignis.”

“I hardly call what you’re doing innocent.” Ignis cuts the Trevally’s head off and begins the process of filleting it. 

It serves as a good distraction, for the most part. Keeps him nice and calm, his voice nice and indifferent. 

He tells himself to keep separating himself from the situation. “Oh well, I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it now, seeing as you’re friends. Gladio, you _did_ fill out all the necessary paperwork, right? Not just the background checks?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it all under control. Don’t even worry about it,” Gladio groans and leans back into the couch, throwing his head back. “Fuck, you’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue as to what you mean.” Except Ignis knows perfectly well what Gladio is getting at. He just doesn’t want to think about it, so he doesn’t. 

Noctis huffs into the crook of his elbow and closes his eyes. 

Maybe now they’ll get off his case. Maybe. Probably not. 

Gods, he looks like a total mess, he can’t believe Noctis didn’t even give warning, and Prompto looked so cute in his day-clothes. Skinny jeans. Tight muscle tank. And don’t even get him started on the—

Alright, that’s enough of that. With a particularly hard smack of the knife to the cutting board, Ignis tries banishing all thoughts of cute blonds from his mind. 

Apparently, avoiding Prompto won’t be as easy as he thought it’d be. Not anymore, at least.

He’s going to have to buck up and deal with this some other way, because despite his friends telling him that they want him to go for it, they simply don’t understand the pressure he’s under and the standard he must keep himself at. He wouldn’t expect them to understand, either. 

It’s on him, and that’s the way it will stay.

Ignis’ll deal with it somehow. He has to, so he will. His ironclad stubbornness has yet to truly fail him, so he prays that it’ll keep him strong, especially since he’s sure that this will prove to be difficult.

And he’s right. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to endure.

Turns out, pining all on your lonesome—dare he say it—is quite a lonesome, miserable endeavor indeed. 


	2. Chapter 2

Prompto may be stubborn, but he knows better than anyone when it’s time to give up.

And he hates using that phrase. Giving up. Because is it really giving up if he has no other options? He isn’t sure, but he feels miserable about it regardless. 

Miserable in a way he hides out of sight and out of mind, because he knows that no amount of self-pity will change things.

Or fix them. 

Because Prompto knows that life isn’t fair, maybe a little too well. 

So, when he meets with his academic advisor to tell her that he’s going to have to “take a break” before he schedules for classes again, he tries not to feel like too much of a failure. She doesn’t seem disappointed with him, but he feels like a disappointment anyway.

Prompto thought he’d have enough money to get him through school. Or, he thought his financial aid and loans would get him through, even if he had to work all night and in between classes to make up for the difference.

But then, his rent had gone up. And after his rent had gone up, he had to take up more hours, and one thing led to another, and now he was screwed. 

Maybe that’s a bit too fatalistic? He sure felt screwed though. Like all of his plans for his future were disintegrating right in front of him. Slipping through his fingers. 

Prompto assures himself that things will be okay. Maybe.

After all, it’s only a break from school, it’s not like he’s completely quitting. Yeah, it sucks, it’s inconvenient, but it won’t be the end of the world. He’ll just have to work harder than ever to catch up. Maybe get another job, too. 

And by next year, he’ll hopefully have his shit together and be ready to get back into things.

Hope is really all Prompto has going for him right now, so he clings a bit harder than necessary and tries not to mooch off of his newfound friend, Noctis. 

Yeah, he still doesn’t really understand why he got picked up by the Prince. 

He’d seen him around during his shifts, but it never really clicked in his head. Prompto’s never been the most aware person, after all, and during work, he tends to focus on what matters: his work.

But as the weeks went on, Noctis and Gladio started coming up to _him_. Saying hi. Asking him how he was. 

Casual pleasantries soon turned into actual conversations. Then, before he knew it, they were swapping numbers. Him and Noctis actually started texting, like actual friends, then, well.

Noctis straight-up invited him over to hang out. As if Prompto was even cool enough for that in the first place. 

Then, it was revealed that he’d been chatting with actual royalty for _weeks_ without even knowing it! 

Gods, that was humiliating. Dense Prompto strikes again.

He really doesn’t understand why Noctis would go through all the trouble, and all the background check paperwork, just to hang out with _him_ of all people. Yet, here he is regardless, cozying up with the rich, who’d probably judge him if they ever saw the squalor he came from.

It’s embarrassing. ALL of it.

The first time he’s over at Noct’s apartment, he can’t help but feel like Ignis sees it on him, how much he doesn’t belong. As if it’s a stain on his very soul. 

Prompto tries to make a good impression, he really does! But even though he bounds up to Ignis, says hi, and Ignis is _far_ from cruel to him, Prompto can’t help but feel that he really doesn’t fit in here. 

It’s too obvious. 

It slams into him at all once. Ignis is so attractive, Noctis is so rich, Gladio is, well, _Gladio_, but he’s just some poor charity case who doesn’t really belong, not in the slightest. And it’s glaringly clear. Ignis must see it too, it’s probably why he offered him dinner in the first place. He knows Prompto would just go home hungry, and it makes him burn with shame. 

He declines and leaves as fast as possible, already feeling like it was a mistake to try and fit in with such amazing guys. Where would he even fit in here? Could he in the first place?

Prompto chews his lip the entire bus ride back to his shitty apartment. He needs to be looking for another job, not agonizing over hot guys (Ignis) and his own baggage. 

Still. Even though he tells himself all these things, he still yearns for more than he has. 

He still aches for that connection, even if Noctis just doesn’t realize how worthless he is yet. Even if he’s afraid that Noctis will come to his senses soon enough. He might, eventually, but maybe Prompto can change. He can prove to everyone that he’s worth it, if only he works a _little_ harder at it.

Yeah. 

He just needs to work harder. 

Prompto fires up his laptop and starts sending out his resume, mentally calculating how many hours a week he can feasibly work without his body giving out on him.

Maybe he goes hungry that night. Maybe he gets stuck, imagining Ignis, Gladio, and Noctis, all eating warm food together at the table, talking and laughing and feeling complete together. 

He can’t imagine what that’s like, even though he craves it more than anything else. 

But now that it was offered to him, the suggestion of inclusion, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He keeps turning the thought around in his head, confused and worried about all the ways he might mess it up somehow.

After all, he hasn’t really let himself have anything for the longest time. He doesn’t know what it would mean to just… Accept it. Take it. Enjoy it.

Prompto stays up well into the night looking for jobs. It’s a welcome distraction at the very least. 

There’s a hollowness in him when he thinks of what he doesn’t have, and doesn’t deserve, but he shoves the thought away. 

He needs to worry about money before he even thinks about his own issues. 

Quite frankly, those can wait for another day. 

X

All complaints and self-pity aside, Prompto really does enjoy hanging around Noctis. 

It’s easy in an unfamiliar way. He guesses this is what normal friendship is like, as weird and pathetic as that sounds. They text, talk, play video games—all this stuff that Prompto could never imagine even a few weeks ago. Or really, for his whole life.

Sure, he’s had friends, but he’s always kept them at a distance. He doesn’t know why Noctis is so different, but he makes him _feel_ different, and it’s something Prompto can’t find it in himself to give up.

He can never bring himself to stay for dinner, though. As soon as Ignis comes in, all handsome and refreshing like a taaaaall glass of water, Prompto feels himself falter and shrink in on himself. 

Doubt settles in, heavy and sure. He can’t help but feel like Ignis doesn’t really like him, because they never really make eye contact, and it’s always super awkward, and Noctis always rolls his eyes like there’s something about _everything_ that Prompto doesn’t get.

And it scares him. It makes him feel shitty, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up. 

It’s obvious in the way Ignis avoids him that he thinks Prompto is bad news. Even if he offers dinner, or dessert, or whatever, it’s clear that he probably wants Prompto gone. 

So Prompto leaves, he doesn’t make it awkward, because he knows Ignis is just offering to be polite. 

“Why do you never stay for dinner?” Noctis asks one day while they’re playing some stupid, violent video game.

It’s conversational. Casual. Prompto chews on his lip and tries to make his voice steady, like he doesn’t care. “I just don’t want to impose, dude.”

“But like, it’s not imposing. We like hanging out with you man.”

Prompto shrugs. “I dunno, I just think Ignis doesn’t like me very much is all. I don’t want to bother him when he already does so much around here, you know?”

Noctis pauses the game, and Prompto’s heartbeat quickens. He hastens to say more, because he thinks that maybe, that came out wrong. “It’s not like I think he’s a bad guy or anything, really! I think he’s great, and you can’t blame him for thinkin’ I’m a bit annoying, so it’s okay, I really don’t mind—” 

“Dude that’s not it. At all. What the fuck.” Noctis threads his fingers through his hair and groans. “Ignis is so fucking stupid, don’t even mind him, okay?”

Prompto chews his lip some more, confused, nervous, and on edge. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, above all else, so he probes, albeit carefully. “What?”

“Ignis doesn’t hate you, alright? In fact he…” Noctis trails off, groans again, and throws his head back. “Never mind. He just doesn’t, okay. Trust me, he likes having you around, and he loves cooking for other people. It’d mean a lot to him if you stayed tonight.”

Prompto’s mind goes blank, not able to consolidate that information. How can a guy who’s always avoiding him _like_ having him around? He knows Noctis isn’t a liar, but it still seems like it’s… Not the truth. At least, he can’t find a way to make sense of it. 

Prompto takes a moment to fidget with his hands before responding. “Do you really mean that? I dunno, he just seems to avoid me whenever he’s over, so I didn’t want to assume…”

“That’s just him being a huge idiot, trust me. I don’t think anyone could hate you if they tried.”

“If you say so, dude.” Prompto laughs awkwardly, trying not to make it weird even though he can absolutely come up with more reasons than he can count as to why people could very well hate him. 

But dumping his insecurities to Noctis isn’t something he particularly _wants_ to do, so he keeps it to himself.

Before Prompto can psyche himself up and think through what Noct said, Ignis is sweeping into the room, all put-together as he tends to be. He finds himself staring without even realizing that he’s doing it. When Ignis catches his gaze, he blushes and looks away.

“Prompto, leaving early again, I presume?”

Prompto tries to fiddle with his hands to distract himself from his mounting anxiety, but it still eats at him as he thinks about all the reasons he should say no. All the reasons he should just go home and be alone and—

Noctis said he should, though, and he was pretty insistent about it. He said it would ‘mean a lot’ to Ignis if he stayed. He can’t understand it, but he doesn’t know if he needs to. Or if he should try. His brain does like to mix shit up, after all. Maybe he should just…

He speaks before he can stress himself out more. “Actually, would it be okay if I stayed for dinner tonight…?” 

Ignis pauses in the middle of rummaging through the cupboards. After a tense few seconds—during which Prompto assumes he’s made the worst mistake of his life—Ignis turns and seems to genuinely smile at him. At him! Of all people! “Of course. Do you have any food allergies I should be aware of?”

“Nope, thank you. I’ll pretty much eat anything! Even like, food out of the garbage can. I’m not picky.” He winces. That actually hit a little too close to home, considering he’s had to do that a few times in the past month. 

“Let’s not do that, shall we?” Ignis huffs and shoots a glare at Noctis. “I have enough dirty men in my life. In fact, my hands are full of nasty men and their bad, filthy habits.”

“I’m not dirty!” Noctis protests.

The look Ignis continues to give him immediately shuts him up, and the shift sends Prompto into a fit of laughter. Noctis bowls him over. “Traitor!”

“What, he’s got you there, you’re fucking nasty bro.”

“And you’re not?”

They roll around on the floor like a couple of children until Ignis shouts at them to calm down, in case they end up breaking the T.V. during their roughhousing. Even as they settle down, out of breath and sweaty, Prompto can’t help but smile a bit to himself. 

It’s so nice not being alone, he wants to burn the memory into his brain forever. Just like a picture. 

As Ignis sets out dinner and they all sit together at the table, Gladio comes breezing in to fit himself among them. 

Prompto feels a sense of belonging nag at him. He wants to remember this forever.

He doesn’t know how long this’ll last, but he never wants to forget how it feels. To belong, even just once. Even if his insecurity is just waiting around the corner to creep back up on him and ruin everything, this warmth is hard to ignore. 

Prompto watches Ignis as he banters with Gladio and finds the world grinding to a slow, still halt around him. God, he’s so cute. And so smart. And so interesting and funny, even if he’s kind of intimidating, and he’s so talented. _Fuck_.

“What’cha staring at?”

Prompto jumps in his skin as he feels Noctis whisper directly into his ear. “Dude!”

“What, I’m just asking! You totally just went all zombie watching Ignis talk about _taxes_.”

“Did not! I was looking at a stain on his shirt, it was distracting me!”

“A stain?” Ignis asks, voice high and disturbed, jumping right into their conversation. “Where?”

“Uhhhh. I don’t know, I thought I saw something on your shirt…?” 

Good one Prompto. What a lie.

Ignis shoots up to his feet. “I’ll be but a moment, I have to check.” He’s gone before Prompto can even begin to say that there’s nothing actually there. 

The moment Ignis is out of ear-shot, Gladio and Noctis are leering over him like hungry animals who’ve found their next meal and are moving in for the kill. 

“Uh, guys, you’re scaring me.”

“A _stain_ huh?” Gladio raises his eyebrow. “You were staring at a _stain_ for five minutes? Okay, alright.”

Prompto covers his face with his hands and makes a frustrated noise. “Stopppp!”

“You liiiiike him,” Noctis sing-songs, “that’s why you never stay when he comes home, huh?”

It’s more complicated than that, but Prompto doesn’t know how he’d even begin to unpack all that, so he just makes another noise into his hands.

Gladio and Noctis high-five. Assholes.

Suddenly remembering that Ignis is just in the other room, Prompto sits back up and tries to pull himself together. “Okay, shut up guys, really, I don’t want him to hear—”

Ignis comes breezing back into the room. Prompto’s never shut his mouth faster in his life. 

“I couldn’t seem to find it, I suppose you misjudged, Prompto. For the best, I’m sure. This is my favorite button-up. I’d be quite upset if I’d mussed it up.” He goes right back to eating, unaware of Prompto’s mortification. 

“Yeah, for the best,” he agrees. Noctis and Gladio are giving him funny looks, so he makes it a point to dramatically shove food in his mouth, pleading them to move on too. 

“My, your appetite is ravenous. Would you like to take home any leftovers? We’ve got some perfectly good Tupperware in the cupboard. And it would be no trouble at all.”

“Hell yeah he does,” Gladio says before Prompto can jump in to politely decline. “Gotta fatten him up somehow, he’s a twig.”

“Hah, yeah,” Prompto agrees sheepishly, though he can’t force his usual optimism. It’s kind of them, it really is, but it hurts his pride nonetheless. Makes him feel like they can see how little he has. 

He’s pitiable, and he hates that. 

“Anyway, Prompto, you’re in college right, how are your classes?”

Prompto chews his lip. Tries to make the smile he plasters onto his face feel less fake. 

Having to drop out because he couldn’t afford it really stung, he can’t deny that, but he doesn’t want everyone else to know that he can’t afford it, too. But he also doesn’t feel like he can just lie, so he settles for something in between. “Not this semester! I’m taking a break, so I can work a bit more, you know? Then I’ll get right back into it!”

He tries not to think about the fact that he probably won’t. Not with how the way things are going. 

“Ah. Very responsible of you. Major?”

“Photography, but I’m not very um… Good, haha.”

Ignis smiles at him and he feels his heart skip. So maybe Ignis _doesn’t_ hate him after all…? And Noctis was right? 

He doesn’t know what he did right, but he wants to keep doing whatever is making Ignis look at him like this. “Nonsense, you strike me as the type to have a keen artistic eye. I’m sure your photography is wonderful.”

Okay. Cool. He’s blushing. There’s no way that Noctis and Gladio aren’t noticing, and they’re probably going to tease him about it, too. Fuck.

Prompto babbles out a few thank-you’s and wills them to move on. Eventually, they do, but not before Ignis makes Prompto agree to show him his photography sometime. 

“I’m sure he’d love to show you,” Gladio teases, leaning over the table and pointing his fork at Prompto. 

He flusters and trips all over his words, but he agrees, even though the very thought of showing Ignis anything about himself makes his heart jump in his chest. 

“Oh, for—” Ignis scowls at Gladio before shooting a kinder, softer look at Prompto. “Don’t mind him. You aren’t obligated to show me anything. He’s just being a prick.”

“Am not,” Gladio says around a mouth full of food.

Noctis rolls his eyes. 

“No, um. That’d be great, it’s really no problem at all,” Prompto assures, waving his hands in front of him. He tries not to throw up over just how _tender_ he feels when Ignis smiles at him and says “it’s a date, then,” as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

Prompto thinks this crush might actually kill him.

He’s not sure how to feel about it just yet.

As he sits thinking to himself and wondering which pictures would impress Ignis the most, Prompto accepts that he’s thoroughly fucked, and he’ll just have to work through these feelings on his own time. He doesn’t want to make Ignis feel bad just because he’s hopeless.

That’s all on him.

Prompto holds the warm Tupperware containers full of food close to his chest as he makes his way to Gladio’s car. The entire drive back, all he can do is gush about Ignis like some embarrassing teenager.

This sucks. If Gladio’s good-natured teasing tells him anything, it’s that he’s too obvious about how much he likes Ignis. 

_This sucks!_ He repeats again to himself. Because it really, really does.

And yet, when he’s putting the leftovers in his fridge that night, he can’t help but feel warm. Welcomed. When he’s getting ready for work, his phone chimes. A message from Noct with Ignis’s number attached.

**Prince Melodrama: for future reference **

Prompto blushes but sends out a thank-you text to Ignis for the food. It makes his entire chest light up. Makes his apartment feel less lonely.

Like things are finally changing somehow. 


	3. Chapter 3

“So, ignoring him didn’t work out for you, huh?”

Ignis scrubs the dish in his hands harder. Vents his anger out on porcelain. “Noctis, I was never _ignoring_ him. It was simply strategic avoidance.”

“Uh huh.” Noctis’s face keeps neutral, disbelieving. “So, if you were never ignoring him, how come he thought you hated him?”

Ignis’s hand stills at the same time his frustration does. It quickly morphs to confusion. “What?”

“Before you got back, me ‘n Prompto were talking. He said he thought he annoyed you, and that you didn’t like him. He seemed pretty messed up about it, like you gave him a reason to think that. Which you kinda did.”

Ignis blinks a few times and suddenly realizes that he’s unable to count their interactions on one hand. It really doesn’t make sense to him. “But we’ve hardly talked, there’s no way he could have annoyed me in the first place.”

“Igs, you’re impossible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Noctis bangs his head down onto his folded arms. He grumbles into his sleeves before lifting his head back up to stare back over to him. “What else was he supposed to think? Every time you’re here when he is, you’re always so busy avoiding him that you end up acting like a huge, cold asshole. Of course he thought you hated him, you’re both being stupid and not talking to each other about the fact that you _obviously_ like each other—” 

Ignis nearly drops the plate. Like… Each other? That doesn’t—can’t—click in his brain. The idea alone makes him antsy. “Don’t—”

Noctis throws his hands into the air. “I can’t believe I’m somehow the more rational one here!”

He thinks back to how he was behaving toward Prompto all this time and feels himself flood with shame. All the cold looks, all the avoidance and dismissal. All for what, so he could stonewall Prompto? Why? What did he accomplish?

His juvenile crush hasn’t faded, not even a little. If anything, it’s grown, and it demands his attention. 

Try as he might, Prompto just isn’t someone he can dismiss. He’s a beam of bright, warm light, and Ignis wants to bask in it for as long as he’s allowed.

Prompto is refreshing. A welcome change of pace.

And what has Ignis been like in response? A cold and impassive block of nothing. 

While he has to disagree that they like “each other”—Ignis still very much believes that there’s no way Prompto could be interested with someone as boring as him—he does have to agree with Noctis that he’s being utterly ridiculous.

“Oh gods,” he says, groaning to himself. “I’ve been an ass.”

“Yeah, you have.” Noctis says. “I told him you didn’t hate him, and he seems to feel better about it all after today, but try not to scare him off again, okay? I dunno if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of sensitive about that kind of stuff.”

The front door opens and shuts, and Gladio makes a grand return, “We talkin’ about Ignis’s mess of a love life?”

Ignis bites out, “I suppose dropping Prompto off went well?”

“Yep. Wouldn’t stop talking about you the entire way back.”

“Come now.” Ignis looks away and starts to shift his focus back to washing the dishes. “I don’t appreciate being teased.”

Noctis stands abruptly, grabbing Gladio by the arm and beckoning him to the living room. “Come on man. He’s helpless.”

Pointedly ignoring them, Ignis continues to concentrate on the task in front of him. He doesn’t dare to get his hopes up, not with everything else going on around him. He’s getting by just fine on his own, thank you very much.

Yet, as he sits with his own thoughts, he finds it harder and harder to not let them stray to Prompto. How cute he is when he gets distracted staring at something, with his mouth slightly gaped open. How cute he is when he’s listening to other people speak. Bobbing his head and furrowing his eyebrows, wanting to make sure you know he’s paying attention.

Ignis continues to be screwed. Irrevocably. And he really has no clue where to go with this.

His phone chimes from the sink side. An unfamiliar jingle. A new number perhaps?

Curious, he grabs it and checks. 

**Heyyy ignis, thanks again for dinner (and the leftovers!!!) im legit so excited, thanks man! sorry i didn’t get to stay and help out with dishes ):!! work and all that, u know how it is**

**PS SORRY, i got your number from noct! i hope that wasn’t super rude of him lol i just wanted to thank you again for the BEST meal ive ever had in my entire life**

Ignis finds himself smiling despite Noctis’s obvious meddling. He types out a quick reply and saves Prompto’s number to his phone.

There is no hope for him, is there? No, there absolutely isn’t. 

X

The next few weeks are incredibly busy.

After finding a second job, Prompto’s free hours slowly slip away from him. He spends most of his free time napping, or, if he’s feeling alright enough to keep up his façade, Noctis’s apartment. Having an actual, real, bonafide friend is a luxury he’d be remiss to enjoy, so he tries to carve out time for his new (and best) buddy, even if his sleep suffers because of it.

And if Ignis comes over and just so happens to cook him some food? Well, that’s not something he’ll complain about.

After Prompto got over his whole pride thing with accepting leftovers from Ignis, he found that they were really helpful for him throughout his week. 

He didn’t particularly have the time, or the money, to cook food for himself anymore. He hardly did before, but now, well, bills are racking up, and that’s just his unfortunate reality.

So having a few Tupperwares in his kitchen for emergencies is really helpful, and Prompto can’t think of a way to repay Ignis, even if it’s not a huge deal to anyone but him. 

At the very least, he can help clean up after dinner, so he’s taken to washing dishes while Ignis rests at the table.

Poor guy works so hard, he really deserves the break.

After dinner, Noctis usually retreats to his room for a nap, so him and Ignis are left to talk while Prompto cleans. “You really don’t have to do that,” he says, for the utmost time, as if that’ll dissuade Prompto. It doesn’t. Not in the least. 

He is still a stubborn, stubborn person after all. 

“I so do, dude, you do like, everything around here.”

“What’s one more responsibility?” 

Prompto cracks a smile at Ignis’s dry joke. “Easy there, Iggy. Keep working yourself this hard and you’ll dig your way into an early grave.”

It’s a joke, yet the silence that follows makes Prompto worry that he said the wrong thing without even realizing it. 

“Ah. On the subject of working hard…” Ignis seems to search for the right thing to say, and even without looking at him, Prompto can hear the hesitance in his tone, as if he’s trying to tread gently.

“Yeah? Is everything alright?” 

“With me, for the most part, yes. But I’m not sure the same can be said for you.”

Prompto stills in the middle of wiping down the counter. His shoulders draw up, and he stares resolutely at the granite, a million things racing through his mind. After a few seconds of his brain stalling in panic, he cracks a nervous smile and keeps wiping. “What d’you mean? I’m doing fine.”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t my business, and please do tell me if I’m overstepping, but…”

Prompto feels his heart lodge itself right in his throat. The pity burns. Makes him want to leave and never come back. There’s some strange, distant part of himself that doesn’t want to be cared for. Doesn’t know _how_ to be cared for. And it…

Makes him uncomfortable.

Ignis seems to find what he wants to say. “You’ve just seemed run down lately. We’re all a bit worried about you, is all. Is everything alright?”

Prompto bites his lip again and tries to make his voice as bright as possible. “Yeah dude, everything’s fine. I’ve just had to work more hours lately, because my rent went up and stuff. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is that also why you had to take time off school?”

Despite himself, Prompto feels some irrational frustration build up in him. He knows that Ignis isn’t interrogating him, but he still feels pried at. He still feels like he’s being judged for not working hard enough, or not planning out things enough, or whatever else.

Ignis probably thinks he’s pathetic for not having his shit together. And now he’s going to be stuck in a dead-end job forever, and never get his degree, and then he’ll realize that Prompto isn’t a good influence on Noctis at all, and he’ll be—

Okay. Stop spirally. Stop it. 

He realizes that he hasn’t responded to Ignis when suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he’s as wound up as a pressurized spring. Once he notices, he tries to relax, but the bad thoughts have already wormed their way into his brain, and he feels out of place and confused yet again. Lost.

Like he really has no business feeling any of these things. Or even being here.

“Sorry,” he says, nonspecifically, because he’s sorry about practically everything at this point. He doesn’t know how he let things get this far, get this messy. His life is a mess. 

“Prompto, please don’t feel the need to shoulder this all on your own.”

But what alternatives are there? 

Prompto doesn’t want to feel bitter, but he really can’t help himself. Ignis just doesn’t get that his situation is hopeless, and that’s that. 

“It’ll work out eventually,” he says, even though he really doesn’t think they will. In fact, he’s just waiting for everything to come crashing down. “It’s just something I have to deal with, okay? But thank you, I really do appreciate it.”

Ignis slips his hand away. “I disagree. But as someone who is also very prideful, I can understand your reluctance. Still, even then, I think there could be some alternatives.”

Prompto huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. His eyes begin to burn. There’s really no way out, he’s thought about every possible road, and he’s never found a solution. He’s screwed. 

Still, the suggestion of hope tugs at him. He doesn’t want to live like this forever, running between jobs, barely scraping by, for the rest of his life. 

He wants to have fun with his _friends_ and get an education. 

He wants to make art. He wants to see the world. He wants to enjoy his youth. Not waste it working odd jobs just to scrape by.

So even though he doesn’t think of himself as worthy of the help, Prompto finds it in himself to ask for it anyway. Desperate for some sort of solution. “What alternatives?”

Ignis licks his lips. Searches Prompto’s face. 

Prompto doesn’t know what Ignis sees, and he’s not sure he wants to know.

“Let’s sit down, shall we? We can talk about it.”

Ignis leads Prompto to the kitchen table, and Prompto bites out another apology, so deeply undeserving that it hurts. 

“None of that,” Ignis assures. “I won’t be having you apologize for asking for help.” 

“Okay,” Prompto says, quietly, though he can’t shake the guilt. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. Now, let’s think through this together. I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

Prompto clasps his hands together and nods, still not quite allowing himself to believe it.

Something in his chest loosens all the same. 

X

And, after a while of talking, they _do_ come up with something, though Prompto doubts that anything’ll come with it. 

There’s a page position that recently opened up at the Citidel, Ignis explains. The pay is good, the benefits are even better. Ignis explains that it won’t be easy, but he can put in a good word for him. 

Ignis sees Prompto resist. He sees him open his mouth, probably to argue with him about being a reference, but Ignis shakes his head. “I’m not _giving_ you a job, Prompto. I’m merely helping a friend who just so happens to be already qualified.”

“Isn’t that like, unfair though?”

“I see nothing unfair about it. I think you’re qualified; therefore, I’m recommending you. You’ll still have to go through the application process just like everybody else.”

Prompto squirms in his seat. Bites his lip again. Ignis tries to reign in the little horny daemon in his head, the one that reminds him that Prompto is just unbearably attractive, even when he’s not even trying. 

He files that away for another time and tries to focus on making the poor man less anxious about this all.

Ignis reaches forward and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Think about it, won’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah… I’ll think about it.” Prompto looks away from him, resolutely.

“That’s all I’m asking.” He tries for a smile, but Prompto’s face is still burning red and horribly scrunched up. Poor thing. He can empathize more than he can begin to put into words.

As a prideful person, he can only imagine how hard it is for Prompto to consider help. Thinking of what might convince him, Ignis tacks on: “and to think, if you have more time on your hands, maybe Noctis will be less of a thorn in my side. You’ve been invaluable for keeping him in line.”

“Nah, you’re just sayin’ that,” Prompto blushes harder and laughs. “But if it makes stuff easier for you too, then I’ll um. I’ll consider it, I guess. Thanks, Iggy, I should probably get going.”

Prompto clumsily gets up from the chair, all nervous energy. He looks ready to bolt. 

Ignis reaches out a hand, feeling too desperate for his own good. “Wait. Did you save yourself some food to take home?”

“Uh, yeah. I put some aside, thanks.”

Many things are beginning to click in Ignis’s brain. The reluctance to accept leftovers, favors, drives home… Dropping out from school…

It doesn’t paint a pleasant picture. Ignis doesn’t like to think about Prompto going home, struggling to provide for himself, maybe going _hungry_. It makes his chest ache, for someone as vibrant as Prompto to be struggling as much as he is.

Ignis is slowly recognizing that his desire to be there for Prompto is outweighing his reluctance. Duty will always be his first priority, that is simply how his life is. 

But he’s beginning to realize that maybe Gladio was right. 

As much as he hates to admit it. 

Maybe he _is_ afraid to let himself have something for once. Something outside of what was charted out for him since he was a child. 

Something outside of Noctis.

As much he hates to admit it, Ignis thinks that maybe, what he has isn’t good enough. Or, more accurately, it’s not all there is out there for him. He still doesn’t think anything will come from this, but he knows that Prompto is slowly starting to fit into their lives. His life.

And he cares very much about what happens to him, so it kills Ignis to know that Prompto isn’t getting the same opportunities that his peers are readily afforded. It makes him unreasonably angry. 

Ignis worries that Prompto won’t take him up on his offer, either, too stubborn to accept perfectly valid help. However, later that night, he gets a text from Prompto confirming that he’d like that recommendation. 

He sends over the application immediately, sets his paperwork to the side, and gets to work writing up something that’ll hopefully do Prompto justice. His position as the royal advisor won’t hurt, either. He just hopes its enough.

Because if there’s anyone who deserves to live comfortably, it’s Prompto. Ignis can deny his feelings all he likes, but this is one thing he can never hope to deny.

Prompto _deserves_ a good life, and Ignis will be damned if he doesn’t try to help him get one. 


	4. Chapter 4

Unsurprisingly, Prompto gets the job.

Ignis knew that it was possible. His personality is perfect for the position; he’s extroverted, trustable, humble, and hard-working. Ignis honestly couldn’t see this happening any other way. 

Of course, he knows Prompto probably doesn’t see it the same way. 

Sadly. 

Noctis says the same thing to Prompto’s face the next time he’s over. “Dude, you were the only person even remotely qualified for the job.”

“Aghh Noct, stop!” Prompto covers his face with his hands. Probably blushing. Ignis can’t help but watch him from over the rim of his glasses as he works. “You’re just kissing my ass because we’re friends, dude.”

“Am not! You’re just an idiot for not seeing what we see. Why do you think Specs wrote you that recommendation letter?”

Gladio chimes in from the other side of the room, setting his book to the side. “Yeah blondie, in case you haven’t noticed, Ignis is kind of a stickler about that kind of shit.”

“I don’t know, because he feels sorry for me?” Prompto blurts. He tries to backtrack by laughing it off. “I mean come on man, you guys are royalty, I’m just a commoner, you know? I don’t mean that in a bad way or anything, I just think it’s unavoidable that he’d feel sorry for me ‘cuz of that. And I don’t fault him for trying to help me out, it was nice of him and all. Just…”

Gladio looks over to Ignis and raises an eyebrow as he catches him staring. Instead of contributing more to the conversation, though, he picks his book back up and chooses to mind his own business. 

Wise. 

Noctis groans. “He doesn’t feel sorry for you like _that_ Prompto. He—” 

Ignis clears his throat and shuffles around his papers. Did they just forget he was sitting right here in the other room? Did they not realize he could hear them? And _see_ them through the door? 

Noctis groans again and throws his hands up. Very mature. “Ignis!”

“Highness?”

“Come out here, I’m sick of you guys being total idiots!” 

He considers staying where he is and ignoring Noctis’s whining, but he figures that this, too, falls under his job description, and collects his papers, intent to bring them with him.

When he gets to the living room, Noctis stands and gestures to Prompto with both of his hands, as if presenting him. 

Prompto shrinks into himself under the scrutiny. “Um, dude, maybe this isn’t—”

Gladio stands as well, snapping his book shut and startling Prompto into silence. “Yeah. We should get going, Princess. Might as well get a few hours of training in while they get things sorted out.”

“Get things sorted out…?” Ignis echoes, furrowing his brows in confusion. He pushes his glasses up his nose and fusses with his papers to distract himself from a growing sense of dread and embarrassment. “I would appreciate an explanation, Gladiolus.”

“Nah.” Gladio hauls Noctis, to the door, still struggling like a limp noodle the entire way as he complains. “Good luck you two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ignis bites out, far harsher than he meant it to be, and he can sense Prompto shrink at the tone.

Before he can get an explanation from Gladio or Noctis, they’re already gone, and Ignis feels himself tense with annoyance. Why must they always meddle in his business? He doesn’t even get what they want to accomplish by doing this.

Ignis turns to Prompto and goes to apologize for their behavior, but Prompto beats him to it. “Look, um, Ignis don’t feel like you gotta reassure me. I know you said it wasn’t a pity thing, and I’m really grateful that you even recommended me at all, and things are gonna be easier for me now, so I’m not complaining, I’m really not, but—”

“—Prompto—”

“—I just don’t want you to feel like, pressured, I guess? To make me feel better about it? Noctis is blowing this waaay out of proportion, you don’t owe me anything and I’m really sorry about all this. Really. We can just drop it.”

Ignis takes a moment to breathe. Assess the situation. Maybe Noctis and Gladio have a point. Maybe keeping things bottled up to himself isn’t the best way to go through life. Maybe he’s being unnecessarily callous at times as well, just because he doesn’t want to be hurt.

And though he’d gladly go through life keeping this all to himself, seeing Prompto so insecure, so sure that _he_ is the one in the wrong, sparks something in Ignis. 

He sighs, slumps to the couch, and takes his glasses off so he can massage his temples.

He can sense Prompto gearing up to apologize again, so he tries to build up the courage to tell Prompto the truth. He never thought being honest out loud would be this hard, but it feels like he’s fighting against himself every step along the way.

“No, Prompto, please don’t apologize to me about this,” he says, unable to look at him while he speaks. “If I’m being completely honest, I didn’t _just_ recommend you because I thought you were qualified.”

When he feels Prompto stiffen, probably assuming that his ill-derived conclusions are correct, Ignis jumps to reassure him. “But it wasn’t out of pity. Far from it, actually.”

“What… What do you mean?”

Ignis builds up the courage to put his glasses back on as he turns to look to Prompto. He’s biting his lips again, wringing his hands again, fidgeting and nervous in a way he doesn’t deserve to be. 

“Well…” Ignis takes another deep breath. “I’d be remiss not to admit that part of the reason I feel so strongly about your situation is because I… Harbor some attraction toward you. A crush, as silly as that is.”

Prompto’s face erupts, bright red. “Wait, _what?_” His shoulders raise, as does his voice. “How?”

Ignis can’t stand this man. So, he tells him as such. “How? Prompto, you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Prompto’s mouth pinches into a straight line as he looks away. “I don’t get it. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Iggy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, I know my crush on you is super obvious. I dunno if Noctis set this up to make me feel better but it feels kinda cruel, you know? If you don’t like me that’s fine, I just um. Don’t appreciate being lied to just to save my feelings? Maybe I should… go—”

Prompto goes to stand, but in a fit of blind hope rushing through him, Ignis grabs at Prompto’s wrist to keep him close. “I—excuse me. Can you run that by me again?” He searches Prompto’s expression desperately, hoping he didn’t just make that up in his head.

“I’ve liked you pretty much since the moment I met you, okay? I know it was super obvious, I just didn’t think you’d be the type to play with my feelings like this. And it’s fine, I’ll be fine, and I’ll get over it, I just need time, so—”

Suddenly, everything Noctis had been saying makes perfect sense, and Ignis can’t help but let an uncharacteristically giddy laugh escape him. 

He’s such an idiot. They were both such idiots. 

All this time he…

Prompto looks away, probably assuming the laugh was directed at him. Ignis is putting his foot in his mouth, he’s never done anything like this, never been so open to another person about his… Well. His feelings.

It’s a leap of faith, and it’s scary, but he’s so high off the chance he’s been given that he can’t help but take that leap. “Prompto, look at me. Please.”

Once Prompto meets his gaze, Ignis speaks confidently. Surely. “I’ve been obsessed with you since the moment I first saw you, too.”

Prompto tries to laugh it off, but wilts under Ignis’s serious look. “Do… Do you mean it?”

Instead of answering with words, those have always been harder for Ignis to say aloud, he slowly drags Prompto closer to him until their chests are touching. He cups his cheek in his hand. “Is this alright?”

When Prompto’s eyes flutter halfway closed and he nods, Ignis takes that as the go-ahead and gives him a soft, slow kiss. When they part, Ignis swallows and licks his lips, still having trouble believing that any of this is real.

“Wow,” Prompto says. “Me? You like _me_?”

“You’re only the most incredible person I’ve yet to meet. Yes, I like you, Prompto.”

“Oh. Um. Uh.” Prompto grabs at Ignis’s forearms as if he’ll float away if he isn’t careful. “I like you too, Ignis. You’re really cool.”

“I was under the impression that I was a complete fuddy-duddy.” Ignis quirks a smile. “So that’s good to hear.”

“Oh Gods, am I dreaming right now?” Prompto pinches himself a few times, just to make sure.

“I hope not, I’d wake up sorely disappointed.”

They share a moment of silence. 

Ignis is sure his heart is pounding loud enough for Prompto to hear. In that moment, Ignis searches Prompto’s face, and Prompto searches his. Ignis finds Prompto’s hand and squeezes it, and Prompto squeezes it back.

Ignis hardly has enough experience with dating to know whether or not he’s doing this right. But if he’s listening to his heart on this, he thinks he might be on the right track. Seeing Prompto smile at him, all shy and reticent, bolsters his self-confidence, so he swoops in for another quick kiss.

Gods. He feels so giddy, he might die. 

“Would you like to go out sometime this week, Prompto?”

Prompto nods. They drop hands, and Prompto goes back to fidgeting. His voice is incredibly soft when he speaks, and Ignis fears that his heart may fail right then and there. “Yeah… That sounds good, Ignis.”

“Wonderful.” Ignis grabs Prompto’s hands in his. Gently. As if he’s afraid he might break him if he squeezes. Prompto’s fingers intertwine with his and he smiles. “Friday?”

Prompto nods again. He doesn’t trust his voice. He doesn’t trust that this isn’t some elaborate joke. After sneaking another nervous glance up to Ignis’s face, he looks away again, and stows away that insecurity for another day. “Sounds great.” 

After a beat of silence, they make eye contact again and dissolve into another bout of nervous, shy laughter. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Prompto says, taking initiative to squeeze Ignis’s hands. “I’m seriously like, is this real? Holy shit.”

“I believe that’s my line,” Ignis counters. And it should be. Because he’s the lucky one here. Before he can say any other unbelievably sappy things, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Ah. “It’s Noctis. One moment. Yes, your Highness?”

Noctis’s voice is just as exasperated as it was when Gladio dragged him out. “Did you finally work things out with him? I want to come back to lay down but Gladio’s making me wait.”

“Well, yes,” Ignis drops Prompto’s other hand and attempts to smooth himself over, even though Noctis can’t see him. “We did. Yes. Everything’s alright, tell that to Gladio as well, won’t you?”

Noctis says something on the other side and some muffled noise signals that they’re fighting for the phone. When Gladio’s voice comes over from the other side, he knows who won at least. “You guys kiss and make up?”

Prompto goes bright red from where he’s standing, and Ignis splutters. “That is—that is none of your business—”

“Okay, so you did. Cool. It was fun to watch you guys dance around each other and all, but it was getting kind of old.”

Ignis blinks a few more times, all of Noctis and Gladio’s teasing suddenly making even more sense in hindsight. 

Without deigning to respond, he hangs up, and turns back toward Prompto. “Well, I suppose they’ll be coming back then.”

“Ah yeah. I should probably get going soon. I have training for my page job… thing… Tomorrow. It’s really um, early. I think I need to get like, sleep and all that so—” Prompto bites his lip. Wrings his hands together again. Nervously shifts his weight from foot to foot as he looks up to Ignis. Back away. Back to him again. 

Gods, he’s so adorable.

“Of course. I’ll pick you up Friday?” 

Prompto flushes and shrugs. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll be uh… Going then.” He points his thumbs in the direction of the door and starts to turn. At the last moment, he seems to realize something. He turns back around, kisses Ignis on the cheek, then bolts to the door. “Okay, see you later!”

Ignis touches his face, his fingers ghosting over the spot Prompto’s lips had just been. He can hardly control the pounding of his chest, or the way he feels his entire face light up like Prompto’s had before. 

He can hardly believe it. That he’s allowed this. That he can have anything good, anything as beautiful as Prompto, outside of Noctis. Outside of his job, his duty.

But with his stomach fluttering, it’s not so hard to picture anymore. It feels like something he can obtain. It _almost_ feels like something he deserves. 

And he honestly doesn’t know what to do with that foreign, strange feeling.

The warmth blooming from inside of him his different, but not unwelcome. Ignis begins planning their date in his head, hoping he can translate even a fraction of his feelings into action.

X

Prompto’s changed more times than he can count, but nothing seems to look good on him. It may just be the body dysmorphia talking, but he can’t help but feel that he looks hideous in everything he owns. 

Especially compared to _Ignis_. 

Even though Ignis likes him, which is already crazy, Prompto can’t help but worry that it’s just a matter of time before the guy finds out what he signed up for. A complete mess. With a whole shit-ton of baggage. When Ignis picks him up tonight, he’ll be seeing his house for the first time, and Prompto hopes that it doesn’t make him realize just how… Common Prompto is in comparison.

His area isn’t the safest. Whenever Gladio dropped him off, he always made sure to watch Prompto up until he got inside, and Prompto never missed the humiliating flash of pity in his eyes. So, he loathed to think what Ignis would think of him when he rolled up in his expensive car, in his expensive clothes, his expensive, beautiful, amazing self.

However, the judgment doesn’t come. Ignis knocks on his front door, and when Prompto opens it to greet him, there’s no disgust to be found on his face. He gets a nervous peck on the cheek and a bundle of flowers nudged into his hands.

“Dude…” He looks down at them. Sunflowers. It nearly makes his eyes start to water. “You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense.”

There’s no judgment. None at all. Not when Ignis comes inside so Prompto can put the flowers in water, not when they leave, not when they’re sitting at dinner and Prompto doesn’t know which fork to use with his salad—

Prompto can’t believe it. He really can’t. He never thought someone would ever be interested in him like this, or willing to be this patient with him. He’s a whirlwind of emotions by the time Ignis calls for the check. 

The breaking point comes when Ignis invites him back home for some wine. Half a glass in, and Prompto can feel his cheeks warm. He can’t stop looking around at the immaculate, sophisticated decorum. The glass window. The beautiful skyline that he can see stretch out in front of him. 

He doesn’t know why he gets to experience this. Him, of all people. Him! 

He sits up on the counter and Ignis starts telling him about something he’s too dumb to understand. All leaned up against the counter in his button-up, Ignis looks like a God among men. Prompto’s just.. Prompto. 

Maybe it’s the wine that’s getting to him, he’s always been a bit of a lightweight, but he can’t help but let it slip out. Everything. He stares out the window, faintly watching Ignis’s reflection in the glass as he blurts: “Why would you want to take out a schlub like me when you’re like. You?”

Ignis abruptly stops talking, and it’s only then that Prompto realizes that he’s rudely interrupted. Good going. A wine glass is set down on the granite countertop, and Ignis’s voice sounds off gently somewhere to his side. He doesn’t know, he isn’t looking. He can’t bring himself to. 

He doesn’t know what he’d see, and he isn’t sure he’s ready to see what’s there. Pity? Hatred? Annoyance?

“Excuse me?”

Bewildered. Confused. Those are emotions Prompto didn’t imagine, not coming from Ignis at least. Not about him. He risks a look and finds what he’s afraid he’d see.

Honesty. 

It makes him ache down to his very core. He doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“Prompto.”

Ignis moves in, arms gently enclosing around him. There’s a moment. Prompto considers running. Running and leaving for good, never seeing Ingis again so he doesn’t have to expose himself like this. Like he’s worth loving, or holding, or any of that. 

But he’s already being seen. He’s already being looked at and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. With the feelings it dredges up. He doesn’t think he’s honestly been seen, not once in his life, and the pain that brings to the forefront of his mind tangles with the fear that’s been underlying his past few months.

What happens when Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio look at him and realize that there’s really nothing good to see there? What then?

Will they leave him? Will he be cold and alone again?

“Can you look at me, darling?” 

He wants to say he can’t. It’s hard. It’s too much. But Prompto’s desire to please outweighs his discomfort, and he forces himself to look at Ignis and mentally disconnect from the rawness of his gaze. 

“Why do you think such terrible things about yourself?”

“I don’t know what you mean, I mean, I—” Prompto flushes. He sets his own glass down and tries to find the words to describe the humiliation brewing in his chest. Does Ignis want him to say it? “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Not in the slightest. Do you want to know what I think of you?”

Prompto bites his cheek and manages a slight nod. Ignis leans his face to Prompto’s and keeps his hands on either side of him. “I think you’re the most exuberant human being I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

The eye contact, paired with the vulnerability, is too much for him to handle at once. He laughs once, sharply, and shifts his gaze away, suddenly uncomfortable in his body. He doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know how to hold himself here, doesn’t know how to tell Ignis that really, he’s got it all wrong. 

“Even if somehow, you can’t see it,” Ignis presses on, “you touch every person you meet. Prompto, you’re spectacular. I’m hard-pressed to think of someone more deserving of love than you are.”

Prompto ducks his head down. 

A whole host of emotions fight inside him. Fear. Fear that Ignis isn’t seeing what he _really_ is. Fear that Ignis is telling the truth, and that Prompto isn’t as horrible as he’s always believed himself to be. 

Because if he isn’t as terrible as he’s always thought of himself as, then why did he spend so long hating himself? For what?

Ignis has to be lying. Either Ignis is lying, or Prompto’s entire universe is balancing precariously on a lie of his own making. A self-sabotage a lifetime in the works. And for what?

“You’re gorgeous.” Ignis adds, ducking his head down to look back into Prompto’s eyes. “You brought the sun back into my life when I was so certain that there was nothing in the outside world that would ever matter to me outside of Noctis. You did that, Prompto. It was all you.”

Another laugh rips its way out of his mouth. He can’t help it, it’s just—him? Gorgeous? Bringing a sun into Ignis’s life? He doesn’t know how to adequately explain just how wrong that feels to him. Just how off. 

He doesn’t want to cry in front of Ignis, not now, so he straightens his expression out and tries his best to shove it all aside. “You must have some pretty rose-tinted glasses on there, Igs.”

“Oh, no. Completely clear, I clean them every morning.” Prompto tries to laugh at his horrible joke. Ignis really is too good for him. He stares down at his hands and picks at his nails, trying to think of anything he can say to deflect. This is getting too real, and he doesn’t know how to expose himself. 

He’s never tried. He’s always been too afraid of what would happen when he’d inevitably get rejected and end up all alone again.

Ignis must pick up on his discomfort, because he slowly moves back and releases him from his scrutiny. “You see I…” He thinks for a moment. Takes a sip from his wine glass. “Before you came along, I was—and I hate to admit it but—I was quite lonely.”

Prompto is shocked out of his own self-deprecation. For some reason, it’s hard for his brain to conceptualize Ignis having normal people problems. “Really?”

Ignis nods. “I didn’t see it until recently. Until I realized I could have something with you, I mean.” He smiles to himself, as if he remembers something funny yet sad at the same time. “Gladio and Noctis were always on me about finding more to life outside of my duty. And I detested the notion. I thought a life outside of duty was not a life worth living, or one I particularly needed for that matter.”

Prompto slips his hand into Ignis’s and squeezes. “But it’s only natural you’d want to enjoy what everyone else does, right? You’re not a robot, Iggy.”

“Hah, well, yes. I suppose you’re right. Though I can’t say I haven’t thought of myself that way before.”

“That sounds miserable. I’m sorry.”

Ignis shakes his head. “It was how I was raised. I wasn’t always allowed the most emotional freedom. Or physical freedom, for that matter. For the longest time, I clung to that. I was afraid of what would become of me if I left that part of myself behind.”

Prompto can relate to that. Years flash by in an instant before him. Eating dinner alone. Avoiding making friends because he didn’t want to be hurt. Not wanting to face that maybe he deserves more. Not wanting to face the harm his childhood had done to him. 

He surprises himself by speaking. “It was kind of like that for me, too…” With Ignis looking at him without a trace of judgment, he finds it in himself to continue. “I was ignored a lot as a kid. It made me feel like… Like I deserved to disappear, I guess. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I had an eating disorder for the longest time.” 

He laughs, even though it’s far from funny. “And even now, I’m afraid of telling you this because I feel like, I dunno, you’ll realize I’m a total loser and ditch me. But I’m even more scared of there being nothing wrong with me. Like, did I waste my entire life hating myself when I was fine all along? Just because? What then?”

Ignis searches his face and gives him a soft smile. “I’m afraid I don’t have any answers for you. But I know I couldn’t ‘realize’ anything like that if I tried. You’re remarkable, and I hope you do realize that you’re deserving of more. Even if it brings along all sorts of pain.” Ignis squeezes his hand back. “I’m here for you.”

Prompto bites his lip, not knowing how to respond. How can he respond to that, when he feels like his entire world is being turned upside-down? “I’m here for you too.”

Their lips meet for a chaste kiss, a kiss that gives away more than words could ever hope to. Prompto hopes he can put even a fraction of the adoration he feels into skin against skin, even if it’s only for a fleeting moment. 

Ignis drags careful fingers through blond hair, and Prompto can hardly stand how much the tenderness hurts. It’s like he’s coming home to his own body for the first time in his life, and he has no clue how to feel about it.

“Let’s figure it out together, shall we?”

“Yeah,” Prompto says dumbly into the space between their lips. “I still can’t believe you like me like that. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“I could say the same,” Ignis says, punctuating his sentence with another chaste kiss. “In fact, I will. I feel like I’m dreaming. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

Ignis smiles at him again, so gently and kindly that Prompto wishes he could see what Ignis sees. He can’t even imagine anyone feeling that way about him. 

“We’re ridiculous, to think that Noctis was hinting all this time, but we were too blind to see.”

Prompto wants to make a joke. 

Something along the lines of _well of course it’d be weird you’d like me back, you’re way out of my league!_ but he knows that it isn’t a joke, and he can’t disrespect Ignis’s feelings like that. So he bites his lip again and dives in for another kiss, hoping his message is being heard loud and clear. 

He closes his eyes and feels color explode from behind his eyelids. A desperate communication through the language of touch and sensation. A universal language. Ignis makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Prompto feels it down to his bones. 

When they part, Prompto can’t stop himself from chasing Ignis with his hand. Reaching out, he bunches up Ignis’s shirt between his fingers to keep him close. 

Slowly, Prompto forces himself to take his hand away, too afraid of how clingy he must seem. But when Ignis reaches back and grasps his hand, holds him close, Prompto feels his heart soar at the suggestion. 

_This is okay. I want you here._

“Yeah, we’re ridiculous.” He agrees, heart hammering and mind reeling. “Fuck. You’re so hot.” Before he can stop himself, he blurts: “That noise you made when I kissed you went straight to my dick, dude.”

Ignis laughs louder than Prompto has ever heard him laugh before. Maybe they’re both a little too tipsy for this conversation. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Prompto’s hands go to Ignis’s belt loops, his fingers shyly sliding to tug at them. “Can we…”

Ignis tilts his chin up. “Dear, I’m afraid that I’ll explode if we go any further. Plus, I’d like us to both be in our right minds to enjoy each other.” Before Prompto can look too disappointed, Ignis plants a few kisses along his jaw. “But… Ah. Would you like to come to bed with me for the night?”

“Cuddle time?” Prompto suggests, face suddenly breaking into a smile. 

“Cuddle time,” Ignis echoes. 

Prompto whoops. Once he has Ignis’s pajamas on (yes! He can do that! He can wear his boyfriend’s(?) oversized clothes!) he hops into bed.

The sheets are cool under his touch, heavy, and expensive, and the moment he worms under them, he’s more comfortable than he’s ever been in his entire life. 

By the time Ignis comes back from the bathroom, he has his own pajamas on, his glasses are off, and his hair is no longer slicked up, but flat against his forehead. 

For some reason, Prompto can’t look away. He wants to stare at him forever. But when Ignis reminds him to take his contacts out, he sighs and pops them out, sad to return to a blurry world and an even blurrier Ignis.

“Your hair is so cute,” he whines. “I can’t stand it.”

Ignis huffs a laugh. “Coming from the cutest man alive, that’s quite the compliment.”

Prompto makes a muffled noise and waits for Ignis to slide under the covers. The moment he feels the heat of his body beside him, Prompto turns and hesitates before reaching out. 

Ignis pulls him in and they slot in together awkwardly. For a few minutes, they shift back and forth, unsure of how to get comfortable. Their knees knock together, Prompto headbutts Ignis’s nose, and Ignis nearly rolls off the bed. But after a while of struggling, they find a position that works for the both of them.

Prompto is cushioned up against his chest, and their legs are intertwined. Ignis uses his free hand to run his fingers up and down Prompto’s arm. He hopes it’s soothing. He’s never really been the type to cuddle, but he can’t deny that this feels good.

Prompto sighs against him in response, and Ignis feels his chest cramp up. 

“Thanks,” Prompto says into the silence. “Today was really great Iggy.”

“Mmm. I’m glad,” Ignis continues running his hand up and down. Slowly. “I had fun too. Thank you for opening up to me, it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Yeah.” Prompto’s throat suddenly feels tighter than it was just a minute ago. He leaves it at that, sure Ignis is filling in the blanks in his head. His unspoken thoughts linger: _thank you for making me feel accepted. Thank you for opening up right back. You’re incredible, you’re amazing, I can’t wait to grow with you and learn what it’s like to love like this_.

Ignis holds Prompto in his arms. Prompto lets himself be held. Beyond what they’ve found in each other, they’ve found something in themselves as well. 

For Ignis, a worth outside of duty. The allowance of a life outside of Noct. Something for him just because he wants it, not because someone thrust it upon him.

For Prompto, unconditionality. Honesty. Warmth. A keen eye to see through his layers and masks. The ability to feel all the things he’s sworn off in himself. The assurance that he deserves love, not because he’s earned it by suffering enough, but because he’s always deserved it.

It’s strange and scary. Unfamiliar. But they’ll learn together.

They’ll have to.


End file.
